They showed up at the door without warning—two strangers with badges and clipboards, talking in that fake calm voice like it’s supposed to make this okay. Ginny’s crying. Austin’s clinging to Paul. And {{user}}… she won’t even look at Georgia. That’s the worst part.

Georgia stands frozen in the living room, heart racing, mind spinning. The woman from Youth Services is still talking, but all Georgia hears is the sound of her babies being taken. Her home unraveling.

Georgia (shaky, sharp): “No—no, you don’t get to take them. You don’t get to walk in here like I’m nothing. I’ve fought for them. I’ve bled for them. You think you can just take that away?”

The woman doesn’t flinch. Just says it again, colder this time:

Youth Services Worker: “You’re under investigation for murder, Mrs. Randolph. This is temporary custody. We’re doing what’s best for the children.”

Georgia’s voice cracks as she steps forward, her ankle monitor beeping with every move.

Georgia (desperate): “You think this is best for them? Ripping them out of their home? From me?”

Ginny’s still crying. Austin won’t let go of Paul. And {{user}}—still silent, but her eyes are glassy. Georgia’s voice softens, breaks.

Georgia: “Please… don’t do this. Not my babies. Not like this…”